The issues of Sailors Cancer and Leo resolved, Setsuna excused herself from the Tendo household, though not without a few of Kasumi’s recipies. Filing a mental note to get the culinary blueprints to Makoto, the Senshi of Time returned to her principal responsibility: The Gates of Time.
Granted, with the numerous failsafes and alarm spells built into the ancient artifact, a constant vigil wasn’t strictly necessary to keep it safe. Normally, Setsuna stayed in the mist-filled dimension simply to keep things as secure as possible. However, when situations demanded she step away for prolonged periods, she knew she could do so with minimal risk the integrity of spacetime. Still, that didn’t mean she didn’t feel the impulse to perform periodic cursory checks on the ancient device.
Seeing that the Gates intact, untampered with, and still giving majority odds on Crystal Tokyo, their guardian turned to the latest development in the awakening and empowering of the Zodiac Senshi: the location of the Scorpio Medallion. The Crystal had indicated the item lay in Romania, specifically, the Carpathian Mountains, near the border of the regions of Transylvania and Moldavia. Even more specifically, in the former abode of one Vlad Tepes, a.k.a. Vlad the Impaler, a.k.a. Dracula.
In many timelines, Tepes was nothing more than a rather draconian noble with a penchant for sticking the heads of his enemies on pikes. In some, the Bram Stoker novel was reality, more or less. Part of the less lay in the vampire’s continued existence, and his moving to a region that coincidentally was the home of a given superhero, group of hapless teenagers, or other entity who would deliver the coup de grace where Abraham Van Helsing and the Harkers failed. In the timeline of our story, however…
The woman strode calmly to the Hellsing Mansion. If she noticed the carefully hidden guards, she gave no sign. Likewise for the numerous snipers that carefully kept beads on her head. Heedless of the hot leaden death that surrounded her, she pressed the intercom buzzer.
“This is a private residence,” came the terse reply. “Please leave.”
“I’m here to see a friend of mine,” the woman said simply.
“You have the wrong address, ma’am.”
“Would I still have the wrong address if I were to say Integra Leviticus five nine seven?”
The sound of numerous fire arms having their safeties disengaged at the same time, mused the woman, was surprisingly similar to microwave popcorn.
“That is not this week’s password,” said the intercom, with no small pleasure. It continued, “You have ten seconds to leave the premises before I authorize the use of lethal force.”
“If you’ll look,” replied the woman, “you will see that that will be next week’s password.”
There was an uncertain pause. Ten seconds passed without incident. Ten more followed suit. By the next ten, it was clear that nothing happening had become an instant hit. Seconds thirty-one through forty were posers, really.
Finally, the trend was bucked when a different voice came on the intercom. While of a higher register than the previous speaker, it was far more curt and authoritative. There was steel in this voice, as well as a trace of titanium. “Identify yourself immediately or prepare whatever you call your soul for its final reckoning.”
The woman did not even bat an eyelash at this threat. “Certainly, Sir Hellsing. Our mutual acquaintance will remember me as Cassandra Masters. We met once in the old country far too long ago.”
Nothing enjoyed a brief resurgence. The things come in cycles, really.
Finally, the gate opened. As the woman continued her way towards the front door, it was opened by an elderly man whose every feature said “butler” in a calm and dignified voice. “Welcome to Hellsing,” he said genially. “Our mutual friend wishes to meet you in the west drawing room. Please, follow me.”
The woman smiled. “Certainly.”
Soon enough, she was in comfortable accommodations, in a not-too-soft armchair, with a most acceptable pot of Earl Grey. Another man, darker, wilder, and younger in appearance than the butler entered. He not only managed to beat out Sailor Mars in terms of red, he looked as though he had mugged Carmen Sandiego. The hat did not help matters. He smiled as he sat, revealing fangs. “Cassandra. What has it been? Two hundred years? Three?”
“Three hundred forty-one years, ninety-seven days, eleven hours, twenty-three minutes, and…” The woman made a show of checking her watch. “Thirty-eight seconds.” She smirked. “But who’s counting?”
The man chuckled appreciatively. “Indeed. What are a few centuries between friends?” A beat. Then, gun and staff were out and aimed, temporal magic and Macedonium silver begging for release. “Especially,” continued the man in the same tones, as though he were not in a Mexican standoff, when one friend stabbed the other through the heart with a sharpened crucifix?”
“When,” continued Cassandra, “the other was attempting to seduce and enthrall the first so he could spread his reach across all of history.”
Another beat, followed by laughter and the resheathing of weapons. “It has been too long, Cassandra,” the man said fondly. “You make undeath so interesting.”
“Always happy to, Vlad. Though these days I’m going by Setsuna.”
The No-Life King quirked an eyebrow. “Really? Fair enough. At the present, I am Alucard.”
Setsuna rolled her eyes. “Really, why do your people believe spelling your name backwards creates an impenetrable alias?”
“Tradition.” This got a flat stare from the Senshi. The vampire shrugged. “What can I say? It works amazingly well on those humans who can’t think past their next meal and next mate. The ones who notice are so much more entertaining.” He unholstered the Jackal again and twirled it idly in one hand. “So, what brings the illustrious guardian of the Gates of Time to our humble little corner of the world? That Sailor V girl went back to Japan years ago.”
Setsuna weighted her next words carefully. They formed one of the most dangerous sentences one could say to a creature such as Alucard. “I need a favor.”
Alucard acknowledged the sentence’s potency with a jumbo-sized grin, extra fang, hold the sanity. “I see. And what, pray tell, could you offer me in exchange?”
The Senshi held up a finger. “One drop, and only one, of the blood of a ten thousand year old virgin.”
The vampire’s eyes widened. What was being offered was at least twenty times valuable to him as Setsuna’s panties had been to Happosai. “What do you need?”
“Tell me about this.” She produced a slip of paper marked with appeared to be a cursive M. Closer inspection showed that the third leg curled up and was ended with an arrowhead.
“The astrological symbol for Scorpio,” Alucard said instantly. “I am not complaining, mind you, but this hardly seems to be worth your blood.”
“I’m not done. Do you recall any treasure in your old castle that bore the symbol? Jewelry, in particular.”
“Hmm…” The vampire cast his memory back. Back to when he had ruled over a shaking populace, back when his whispered name would drain blood from faces and courage from hearts, back to when young women wore gauzy negligees to bed and always left their windows open. One thing in particular tickled his mind. “Ah, yes. An amusing little trinket. Dark, yet possessed of a certain vague holiness. To keep it near was an exhilarating mix of pain and pleasure.”
“Masochist,” Setsuna said without malice.
“Sadomasochist, my dear. Never forget the sadism.”
“Please. I knew de Sade. Chubby little runt of a man who would never dream of actually doing the things he wrote. In any case, I need that ‘amusing little trinket,’ and it’s still in your castle.”
“So?” Alucard shrugged. “My castle is a tourist trap now. Take the tour. Look around. I hear they have some decent reproductions of heads on pikes at the gates.”
“I doubt anything that has survived years of treasure hunters and archeologists is in an area known or accessible to the public. So, in which secret room did you hide it, and behind how many traps?”
“Have you ever heard of treasure chests with false bottoms?”
She made the connection. “The same principle applies to your dungeon?”
“Precisely. Pull on the manacle directly beneath my coat of arms. The passage will open.”
“And the traps?”
That grin again. “For one drop, my dear?”
“Can you name any other ten thousand year old virgins?”
“Well…”
Setsuna glared. “Human virgins? I know your digestive system can’t handle anything that isn’t hemoglobin-based.”
“Fair enough, fair enough.”
Man, remember back when nothing happened? That was awesome, man.
“Well?”
“Well what?”
“What traps are there?”
“What traps are there where?” It was clear that Alucard was enjoying this immensely.
Setsuna glared again. “I despise you sometimes.”
“Payment for services rendered, my dear Setsuna.”
She rolled her eyes. “Fine. Your payment.” She produced a pin and pricked a finger. A quick squeeze produced a single ruby droplet. “Bon apetit.”
“Merci.” Alucard took the hand as if in preparation for a gentlemanly kiss. Then an unnaturally long tongue snaked out of his mouth and lapped up the offered fluid. Reluctantly, the No-Life King released Setsuna’s wrist as he savored the bouquet.
Seras Victoria still didn’t fully know the extent of her link with her Master. She knew they could communicate telepathically at seemingly any distance. Now she discovered something she’d suspected earlier. A certain degree of empathy existed between the two, especially when the emotions were intense. Of course, this empathy failed to provide context, so the police girl had explanation other than the bond for why she was collapsing into a quivering puddle of happy. Given a vampire’s morphology control abilities, she did so literally.
Unfortunately, she was giving a report to Sir Hellsing at the time.
Integra eyed the bluish heap of contentment for a moment before saying “Walter, please clean up Ms. Victoria. Then go see what in the Lord’s name Alucard is doing with his guest.”
The former Angel of Death bowed. “I shall fetch a mop at once, Sir. Would you like me to see as to whether you may join Master Alucard and his guest?” Seeing that the only response was the patented Integra Glare™, Walter nodded. “Very good, Sir. I’ll go get that mop.”
Seras burbled pleasantly.
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(Posted Sat, 26 Jul 2008 03:24)
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